


show me yours

by sparksfulltime



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksfulltime/pseuds/sparksfulltime
Summary: “Or...” she says, looking down at the table, the pads of her fingers absentmindedly brushing against his hairline, and he looks up expectantly before realizing she’s waiting for him to continue the thought.Missing scene from5x10Something Unforgivable.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	show me yours

“Or...” Kim’s legs are slung out from under the room service table, eyes bright, one hand fingering the stem of her wine glass as the other balances atop her thigh, body canting forward.

“Or now that his car is fixed up—” Kim glances across the table and inclines her head towards Jimmy, raising her eyebrows. “How much do you think that set him back, by the way?"

His gaze flits to her fingers closing around the bowl of the wine glass, watches her raise it to her mouth and take a sip before looking back up to her eyes, still expectantly wide. He shakes his head.

“More than the mechanic over on Arno has ever quoted me for the Esteem, that’s for sure.”

Kim smiles around the rim of her glass, mirth bubbling up to her closed lips as she sets the wine back down, the back of her hand coming up to press to her mouth as if she needs help keeping it physically contained.

“So now that he’s back in action,” she swallows, both hands coming to rest on her thighs, arms stretching out as she stares at a point in front of her, thinking. “We sneak into the HHM garage and write a message on the shiny bumper, something like...”

“ _Honk and wave if I’m an asshole_ ,” Jimmy cuts in, holding up his own wine glass but not sipping, his slow, careful smile widening as Kim throws back her head in laughter again. 

“Yes, or,” she says, up from the chair now, turning in a slow circle, the Pinot in her glass sloshing against one side. “We follow him to the grocery store and wait until he goes inside to leave a note on his windshield that says _‘Sorry for the damage!’_ and watch him panic as he looks all over for the scratch.”

Jimmy nods but she’s not looking at him, still focused on some faraway spot, lips curling as she takes another sip from her glass and he watches her profile, a loose strand of blonde hair trailing along the slight flush in her cheek. Unbidden, the word _wife_ enters his mind, immediately followed by the image of Lalo Salamanca winking at him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, finally bringing his glass up to his mouth and taking a deep swig.

When he opens his eyes, she’s regarding him again, a bright blue beacon in his field of vision as she takes a step towards the table and tilts her head back to drain her glass. Extending her free hand out to Jimmy, it lands gently against his jaw, fingers curling around his ear when she sets the empty glass down on the white tablecloth with a muted _thunk_.

“Or...” she says, looking down at the table, the pads of her fingers absentmindedly brushing against his hairline, and he looks up expectantly before realizing she’s waiting for him to continue the thought.

“Or,” he says, setting his own glass on the table as Kim steps closer, snaking her other arm around him so that her palms cradle the back of his head. “We put a rubber snake in his gold toilet.”

She snorts, thumbs rubbing small circles into the nape of his neck. “Gold toilet?”

“ _Kim_ ,” he mock-chastises, tilting his head back into her hands, feeling his shoulders relax as he looks up at her. “At least one of the toilets in that house is gold.” He pauses for a moment, calculating. “Probably two. Can’t risk one being occupied and having to go in a regular, _porcelain_ toilet like the rest of us plebeians.”

“So how will we know which one the snake goes in?” She asks, pulling away to look down into his face, the dim light of the hotel room framing her like a halo. 

“Suppose we’ll just have to take the risk.”

Her smile dims almost imperceptibly, a hint of the sad desperation he saw earlier returning, eyes scanning his face like he’s seen her do so many times over work, as if she’ll be able to find a solve written in the grooves of his skin. He settles a hand on her waist, attempting to call her back to the moment.

“Or...” he prompts, squeezing his hand on her hip, but she leans down and kisses him instead. The slide of her body pushes his hand up under her untucked blouse, fingers brushing against the bare skin above the waistband of her slacks, and she hums against his lips, tugging gently against the back of his head to pull him out of the chair. 

He stumbles up into her, their faces crushing together before they break apart, and Kim’s chuckle is a warm breath against his cheek.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, head pulling back to quickly press her lips to his again. “Tastes like wine.”

Jimmy’s eyes dart down to her mouth, watches her tongue snake out momentarily before she softly bites her teeth against her lower lip, bringing her hands down from his head. She barely touches his sunburnt skin, ghosting over his elbows, and he can feel her hesitance radiating in the space between them so he runs his own palms up and down her sides, the smoothness of her blouse creating a glossy friction.

“I’m getting a hint of... medium rare? Truffle salt?” His eyes look back towards the table at their abandoned plates even as his hands tighten on her waist again. “I’m still kind of hungry, actually, maybe—”

She cuts him off with another kiss, maneuvering him towards the bed, Jimmy keeping a grip on her as he lets himself be guided backwards. They stop when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress but she doesn’t make a move to push him further, and they stand there for a moment, bodies isolated even as her mouth grows more insistent, teeth nipping at his lip. 

Kim eventually breaks their point of connection, forehead momentarily resting against his as she breathes steadily, in and out.

“Are you good...?” Her hands are loosely gripping his wrists now, and she rises slightly on her toes, peering down as if she’ll be able to see her answer beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I’m fine, Kim.” Backing out of her grasp, he sits on the edge of the mattress and looks up at her, attempting a wry smile. “Just be gentle with me.”

One side of her mouth quirks up as if she’s appraising his answer, but then she’s hiking a knee up onto the bed, arms winding around his neck as she settles over him. Her lips brush against his temple and he feels the memory of a washcloth pressing tenderly onto that exact spot, closing his eyes against the sensation.

“Or,” she whispers against his skin, the weight of her body still only hovering over his lap. “Or we replace his coffee creamer with laxatives the morning of a big client meeting.” 

Jimmy belly laughs, surprised, his hands drawing her closer.

“How would we do that without clogging half the toilets at HHM?”

He can’t see Kim’s face, but feels her shoulders shrug as she presses her mouth to the edge of his jaw, open mouth dragging along his skin before she pulls back, propping herself up on his chest.

“He has his own special bottle of creamer in the fridge,” she smirks, looking pleased with herself. “Coconut caramel.”

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Jimmy groans and she laughs, dipping her head to his mouth once again, fingertips pushing against his breastbone. “How d’you know? Ever sneak some of the boss’ secret stash?”

“Like I didn’t have to get his coffee enough times,” she mumbles against his lips, and Jimmy stalls. The Kim in front of him now is so confident, so successful, so seemingly remote from the version of herself stuck in doc review that their arguments about her treatment at HHM feel like a distant memory, and something in his chest aches.

Her previous words echo in his mind: _He needed to be taken down a peg._

He gruffly crushes their lips together, fingers carding into her hair and Kim makes a surprised _oh_ sound into his mouth, finally settling her weight onto his lap. Jimmy groans at the sudden pressure, reaching further to pull the elastic out of her ponytail, the band snapping across the room. 

Kim’s pupils are blown wide when she pulls away, nudging backwards until he’s lying flat on the bed and she can drape herself over him, fingers working open each button of his shirt. The hotel air conditioning feels sharp against his warm skin as she makes her way down his chest, mouth following in the wake of her fingers, the tips of her fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans when she reaches his abdomen. 

She presses a kiss below his belly button and he hisses, hips thrusting up into nothing when she blows cool air against the spot of wet skin. 

“I’m being gentle.”

“ _Kim_ ,” he moans, and she laughs, sitting up to push his shirt off his shoulders. He starts to finger the buttons of her blouse but she swats him away, scooting back off the bed and deftly popping enough buttons until she can pull it over her head, undoing the clasp of her pants and letting them fall to the floor before crawling up over the bed again.

His pants and the comforter get pulled away as he tugs her towards the headboard, elbows landing clumsily before she scoots her knees forward to sit atop him once more, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the heavy rise and fall of her chest.

“Or...” she goads, and his gaze flicks up, hair hanging around her face as she looks down at him. When Jimmy doesn’t answer, she grinds against him, her own mouth dropping open at the friction and his hands shoot out to still her, a strangled sound working its way out of his throat.

“We, uh.” He closes his mouth, releasing a breath through his nose as he reaches one hand up for her bra. “Release a cricket into his bedroom closet.”

She helps him undo the clasp, shrugging it down her shoulders and tossing it aside. “Chirping away in the night?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees distractedly, hand cupping her breast, hearing her sharp intake of breath when he pinches her nipple. “Closet so big he wouldn’t be able to find it. Or sleep. Very _Tell-Tale Heart_.”

“Good,” she murmurs, and Jimmy isn’t sure exactly what she’s reacting to but he drags her forward in response until one of her hands slaps against the headboard for balance, rising up fully onto her knees. 

He starts to pull her underwear down her legs and she looks around her outstretched arm, unsure even as she helps him kick them off her ankles.

“Should you—?” 

“Should I?” He mimics her, hands reaching up but hindering any movement, holding her body in place above him. She lets out a frustrated whine, canting forward, and he chuckles. 

She rests her weight against the headboard, lowering her hips, but Jimmy only lightly scratches his nails down the outsides of her thighs, feeling her shiver before she impatiently squeezes her knees. 

He finally begins a slow sweep of his tongue, alternating pressure, going from gentle to firm and lightly sucking until she starts to squirm above him. He reaches up to steady her but her hips buck in his grasp, the sound of her palm slapping against the headboard echoing through the room. 

Suddenly, there’s a rattle, Kim’s soft gasp turning into a shriek as something hard rolls down onto his shoulder.

“Oh, my god,” she gets out, doubled over above him now, one hand against the headboard for balance and the fingertips of her other hand splayed against the pillow under Jimmy’s head. “Are you okay? Are you... _oh_...”

He feels her thigh muscles start to tremble and holds tighter, his jaw straining as he works against her, her hips tilting forward and heavy breaths transitioning into a stream of _Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy_ until she heaves out a stuttering moan, whole body jerking above him. 

Jimmy releases his grip as her breaths slow, letting her roll off to one side and turning to the other to find a small, decorative clay pot now resting beside him on the bed. He raises his eyebrows, nudging her where she’s lying haphazardly, elbow thrown over her face, and she squints out from under her arm.

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, hoisting herself up and scooping it out of his hands, placing it back on the edge of the headboard.

“Seems like a dangerous place to keep those,” he remarks, propping himself up on an elbow as she flops back onto the mattress. 

“This cannot be the first time this has happened,” Kim agrees. “What do you think this place’s yearly budget is for sex-related art accidents?”

“Astronomical.”

She’s smiling at him fondly, cheeks flushed, and she slides down to lay next to him, twining a leg between his. There’s an easy silence, Kim’s index finger making loops on his skin. 

“So. Car, reputation, sanity.” She punctuates each item with a drum of her fingers, a checklist against his ribcage. “What’s next?”

He considers for a moment, then: “Hobbies.”

“What does Howard Hamlin do for fun? Organize his tie collection? Rinse with mouthwash every hour, on the hour?”

“C’mon, Kim. Golf?” He rolls them over so that she’s positioned underneath him now, blonde hair fanning out onto the sheets, and she makes an _ahh_ sound, rolling her eyes as her hands close around his biceps. 

“We’d start with his shoes.” He nudges her chin, prompting her gaze back to his face and she nods, hooking a leg around his waist. “Replace them with an identical pair that’s one size too small.”

She hums in agreement as Jimmy begins kissing a trail down her neck, craning her head back when he sucks gently at her collarbone.

“Not so small that they don’t fit,” he continues down her chest, mouth light against her sternum. “But just uncomfortable enough to throw off his game.” 

He reaches the underside of her breast and feels Kim’s fingers tangle in his hair, his smile curving against her skin as he resists her upward tug. 

“Hey.” Her voice is a low whisper, starting to push her foot at his boxers. “Come on.”

He hesitates, movements stalling. “And whoever he’s playing golf with would—”

“No,” Kim cuts him off with a strangled laugh, angling an arm down his body. “ _Jimmy_.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly, sitting up, and she follows, ridding him of his boxers before flipping their position, Jimmy now laying back against the pillows as she sits astride his body. Her nails scratch lightly against his chest, pinpricks crackling across his skin as she leans down to deliver a soft peck on the lips.

“Or,” she reaches for him, stroking a couple of times before lining herself up and slowly sinking down, fingers splaying at his sides as Jimmy fists his hands in the sheets. “Or we replace his golf balls with range balls.”

She shifts her hips once and then stills again, Jimmy’s mind going blissfully blank. 

He manages to choke out: “Range balls?” 

“Yeah,” she breathes, rocking forward again, eyes fluttering closed. “They’re heavier. Makes it harder to hit far.”

He grunts, hands flying to her waist. “It’s hot that you know things about golf.”

She laughs warmly, her eyes sparkling when they open to look down at him. “Is it?”

“I don’t know,” he replies nonsensically, and she laughs again as she slumps down, teeth clashing as their mouths connect messily. She nestles her face into his neck and Jimmy thrusts up, feels her breath stutter against him as he presses a palm to her lower back. 

They move together, quickly finding a flow, and he’s acutely aware that this is the first time they’ve been this close since before he left for the desert. He relishes the slight discomfort created by the slide of their bodies, the tickle of her hair on his shoulders, the way the foreign hotel sheets skid against his sensitive skin; the familiarity of Kim overrides every other sensation and his fingers flex on her back, unable to get near enough to her.

One of Kim’s hands shoot out to prop herself up on the mattress, mouth open, rhythm faltering, and he can tell she’s close again, his palm moving to span her hip bone. She sits up and screws her eyes shut, lips moving with no sound coming out as he rubs his thumb slick against her, pressing harder, faster, until she finally snaps, a stream of babbling nonsense escaping her mouth before she jerks his hand away.

He starts to slow his thrusts but she shakes her head at him, her grip like a vise, squeezing his fingers in her hand and clenching her muscles around him at the same time until he’s coming, too, all of the pressure in and around him releasing at once as he cries out and Kim relinquishes her hold, dropping down onto his chest. 

The cool air of the room settles over their sticky skin, and Jimmy feels her shiver as she rolls away from him and grabs for the sheets, body sliding in before her head disappears completely.

He follows her under, and she jabs at the fabric between them in the cotton cocoon, the sheet billowing up and settling again so that only half of Kim’s wide grin is visible between the dips. She reaches out a hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the side of his mouth, her gaze flickering down when Jimmy instinctively presses a kiss to her skin.

Her grin softens, lips still twisting up affectionately as she draws her hand back, tapping a finger on the bed between them before meeting his eyes again.

“Or...”


End file.
